


Get Some Sleep, Sir

by dustbunnyprophet



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tina is lowkey seducing Graves with coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbunnyprophet/pseuds/dustbunnyprophet
Summary: Some days, Percival functioned on coffee alone, feeling like the bitter taste of it was the only thing that separated him from oblivion. Getting his life back was hard, but he had some help along the way.
A GoldGraves fic





	

**Author's Note:**

> I _was_ working on chapter 8 of [New York, 1926](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8707072/chapters/19963711) but then I read this [post](http://scribblethisnow.tumblr.com/post/154985569491/what-if-the-real-percival-graves-decided-to-work) and I just had to write a fic.

The snow was falling thickly on the frozen streets of New York. Only a few aurors on duty yawned behind their desks, grumpily writing reports while they quietly bemoaned their bad luck of being there on Christmas Eve. Percival passed by, nursing a mug of coffee as he made his way back to his office.

Percival had never been fond of Christmas. Oh, there might had been a time during his childhood when he had enjoyed the brightly coloured boxes under the tree and the tight embraces his mother would give him as she wished him Merry Christmas. But with the passing of years, a grimness had crept upon him, leeching away the childish joy at the approach of Christmas. Bit by bit he had become less and less impressed by the festive cheer, the pointless celebrations, and by the time he had begun his first year at Ilvermorny the Winter breaks had turned into a week of Percival scowling at his parents and assembled relatives. He would spend his afternoons reading and trying to dull the sound of Christmas carols coming through the Wireless. 

And then his last year of school had happened. 

Just days before graduation his parents had been killed. A wizard his father had been investigating had decided to get rid of the thorn in his side Auror Graves was. Percival’s mother hd happened to be there when the wizard had attacked his father. And in the blink of an eye, Percival, seventeen years old, had found himself alone in the world.

He did not celebrate Christmas that year. Or any afterwards.

He shook his head, closing the office door behind him. It was strange to be there once again. The normality of sitting behind his desk when he had known only darkness for the longest time. 

He took a sip of the scorching black coffee and exhaled loudly. He was back to work. He was back to his life. And if he had to clean the mess Grindelwald had left in his wake, atop of having to deal with the guilty looks his coworkers flashed him, Percival did not mind. He was out of the darkness.

He was free.

Setting down his mug, he opened the folder in front of him, carefully reading the minutes of a meeting with the Canadian Director of Magical Security. Percival’s quill scratched the parchment every now and then. There were only minor details that bothered him, but he still had to review every single action the dark wizard had taken whilst impersonating him. He had just penned another note when a knock sounded on his door.

“Come in.” he called, waving his hand to wandlessly open the door.

It revealed a slightly hesitant looking Tina Goldstein who came in, hat clutched between her hands.

“Sir.” she began, squaring her shoulders and Percival set his quill down.

“What is it, Tina?” he asked with a shade of weariness in his voice that took him by surprise.

“Um, sir, it’s Christmas Eve, and well, seeing that you seem to have no other plans. Well, my sister and I were wondering if you’d like to have dinner with us.” she told him, eyes unsure but tone firm.

Percival blinked.

Then with a minute shake of his head he regained his bearings.

“Thank you Goldstein, but it won’t be necessary.” he told her politely “I happen to have a lot of work left to do.”

Tina appeared slightly crestfallen for a moment, but she quickly hid it behind a professional nod.

“Merry Christmas, sir.” she told him, nodding in goodbye.

“Merry Christmas.” he muttered as she was closing the door.

It stopped moving for a moment and Percival knew she had heard him.

 

A tray of biscuits appeared on his desk next morning. There was no note, but the glances Goldstein kept sending his way as he passed through the Department confirmed his suspicion in had been her doing.

 

January continued in a flurry of snow and biting, cold wind. Percival barely noticed it, cooped up in his office as he worked his way through the countless cases and decisions Grindelwald had put his fingers on. Some days he functioned on coffee alone, feeling like the bitter taste of it was the only thing that separated him from oblivion.

He did not sleep well. After weaning himself off the Dreamless Sleep potion, Percival’s dreams became riddled with nightmares. He woke up more often than not awash in cold sweat and with a scream on his lips. His heart would pump in his throat and air would be foreign commodity.

He began sleeping less.

Exhaustion ensured his mind would steer clear of dreaming. And if he woke feeling like his bones had been welded together and his head throbbed lightly, it did not matter. He would take his coffee, button up his suit and apparate to work.

He held onto it like a lifeline, his work. The more the weeks passed the more he clung to the stacks of parchment piled on his desk.

Some nights he would fall asleep on his desk, head buried in the crook of his elbow. His neck would be all cricks and pops, and his shirt too crumpled to be presentable.

He began keeping a change of clothes in his office.

 

One morning, after burning the midnight oil for the umpteenth time, and waking up with his cheek flat on a sheet of parchment, Percival found a mug of coffee and a tray of biscuits next to it. He rubbed his knuckles over his eyes, frowning. Tentatively he took the mug eyeing it with suspicion. But before he had the time to cast a Revealing Spell he eyed the biscuits once again.

They were the same ones Tina had left on his desk on Christmas. Standing there with the mug of steaming coffee in his hand he had half a mind to scold her for insubordination, but as he took a sip of it - black, two sugars - he decided to let the matter slide. 

 

A week later he awoke from a fitful sleep on his newly installed sofa and as he stretched his aching muscles, Percival noticed there was once again a mug of warm coffee with a plate of biscuits next to it on his desk. He shook his head and crossed the office. He lifted the mug to take a sip of the coffee - how did Tina know exactly how he took it? - when he noticed a small scrap of parchment under the plate of biscuits.

It read

“Get some sleep, sir.”

Percival blinked, mug still in hand, unsure of how to act. He finished his coffee, ate the biscuits and as he changed out of his wrinkled clothes and into a fresh suit, he decided to let the matter slide. Again.

 

Coffee and biscuits became a hot-dog and a glass of juice when he missed lunch two weeks later. And as January made way to February, Percival stopped being surprised at the appearance of various food and beverages on his desk whenever he missed a meal or pulled an all-nighter. 

He had to commend Goldstein on the excellent auror work, even if it went well beyond insubordination and bordered on stalking. But he never rebuked her.

In fact, if Percival had to admit it to himself, he had grown quite fond of it.

 

She began smiling at him when he passed by her desk.

By mid February Percival began to smile back, shaking his head in fond exasperation when food and coffee continued to semi-regularly appear on his desk.

 

The pile of parchments began to grown thin and slowly his time became more occupied with current matters rather than the aftermath of Grindelwald impersonating him. His dreams still woke him up more often than not, but Percival began to manage them. And as March came with its ceaseless rain, he started to spend less and less nights in his office.

When he would come to work in the morning, Tina’s smile would be brighter, beaming even, as she wished him good morning. 

And something warm wormed its way under his breastbone.

Bit by bit as spring chased the winter away, Percival began to feel like his grasp on his life got stronger.

 

One evening at the beginning of April, he finished reviewing the last case Grindelwald had worked on. The last folder on his desk. The Scamander case.

Percival put his quill down with a slow movement, and swallowed the bile. He had known of course. He had known the events concerning the Obscurial and how Mr. Scamander had salvaged the situation in the nick of time.

He had not known the British wizard had been sentenced to death.

He had not known Tina had been sentenced to death as well.

Percival could feel magic tingle in his fingertips, a hairbreadth from smashing something. He exhaled, closing his eyes. But instead of calm he found the image of Tina Goldstein smiling at him from her desk, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The looping handwriting of her notes, tucked under the plates of food and mugs of coffee. The sound of her voice, the chiming of her laughter. The brightness of her smile.

He found an urge to curse the dark wizard in their custody within an inch of his life.

But beyond the rage that was almost overwhelming Percival found that the warmth under his breastbone had become something large, something wide, something that swallowed him whole.

His eyes blinked open and with a swift motion he was out of his chair, striding through the corridor and towards the main room where a handful of aurors sat behind their desks. He marched towards the desk to the left, half hidden behind a file cabinet. Tina lifted her eyes as she saw him approach, a  small frown between her eyebrows.

“Sir?” she asked, getting up from her chair.

“Have dinner with me.” he said without preamble, then realising the brusqueness of his tone, he added “Please.”

Tina gaped for a moment, eyes wide as the words sunk in. Then, her lips curved in a smile, a wide smile that lighted up her whole face.

“I’d love to.” she told him, summoning her coat with a wordless flick of her wand.

Then, with a look that spoke of hesitation

“Percival?” she tried, and he smiled.

“Tina.” he told her solemnly, and her brown eyes twinkled.

That evening Tina smiled wider than ever, laughing and looking at him softly. And Percival smiled back. Laughed back. Looked at her with all the warmth that engulfed him whole. When they found themselves walking down the puddle-ridden streets her hand made its way into his and suddenly he was reaching for her, cupping her cheek with his hand. His heart thrummed loudly in his ears as he looked at her, face aglow under the yellow streetlight. 

He gazed at her for a breathless moment. And then his lips found their way onto hers and Tina, Tina wrapped her arms around him. 

And kissed him back.


End file.
